


Self Machine

by blackkat



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Cyberpunk, Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Androids, Conspiracy, F/F, F/M, Friendship, Gore, Humor, M/M, Mystery, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-05
Updated: 2016-04-07
Packaged: 2018-05-31 10:15:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6466363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackkat/pseuds/blackkat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Detectives Sasuke Uchiha and Sakura Haruno are assigned a baffling case that takes them from Konoha's glittering holographic high-rises to its augment-infested depths, trying to find nine cybernetically-enhanced replicants with the power to bring their world to its knees. Along the way they stumble over a conspiracy as old as the city itself, and their only hope of getting out alive is a mysterious pair of data thieves with more secrets than anyone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is…a very old story. Kind of. It was the first fanfiction I ever really started, though it’s gone through so many revisions and rewrites since that it’s practically unrecognizable. I've got a lot of it written, though there are still gaps that need to be filled in and fleshed out, and am finally happy enough with it to let it see the light of day. Hopefully someone enjoys my madness, because sci-fi is my drug, and this fic is practically my baby.
> 
> (Title is from I Blame Coco's song of the same name.)

Sasuke takes ten seconds to breathe through his nose as they slide out of the hovercar, reminding himself just why it would be a bad idea to strangle his partner.

Most of those reasons, perhaps tellingly, have more to do with _witnesses_ and _plausible deniability_ and _Aniki would be crushingly disappointed if I didn’t get away with it_ than they do moral and social norms. Not that he thinks anyone would blame him, given the subject at hand.

“ _No_ , Sakura,” he says through gritted teeth. “I am _not_ signing up for a dating agency.”

Sakura rolls her eyes like _he’s_ being the difficult one here, even as she flashes her badge at the scanner. It clicks, then beeps, and the boundary barrier flickers off, letting them through and then flickering back up behind them. “Sasuke,” she says witheringly, “you had a fling with _Neji Hyuuga_. If that’s not a desperate cry for help, I don’t know what is.”

Sasuke is willing to admit that that maybe wasn’t his finest moment—Neji is to emotional attachment and the idea of a healthy relationship what Raid is to a cockroach infestation—but he is a twenty-five-year-old human male and cannot be expected to make intelligent decisions where certain needs are concerned. He opens his mouth to inform Sakura of this, but catches one glimpse of her dangerously arched brow and subsides with a disgusted grunt.

Never mind, then.

Thankfully, with absolutely impeccable timing, one of the crime scene techs picks that moment to wave at them. “Uchiha, Haruno! Hey, you made it!”

More than happy to escape the looming conversation—because when Sakura wants to Have A Talk god help whatever poor soul tries to get away—Sasuke neatly changes direction and heads for the cramped mobile lab, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his jacket to keep away the worst of the biting cold. Downcity is always about fifteen degrees colder than Midcity, permanently in the shadows of Upcity’s high-rises and only sporadically touched by Konoha's weak sun. The winter is just setting in, but down here it feels like it’s already December.

“Of course we did, Hagane,” Sakura says as they reach the tech, though not before shooting Sasuke a sharp look that says more clearly than any words could that she’s only letting this drop for the moment. “Do I look like the type to miss a party?”

“One hell of a party, if the aftermath is anything to go by,” Kotetsu says with a veteran’s signature black humor, jerking a thumb over his shoulder. Towards the end of the alley, his fellow lab-rat Izumo is crouched over a dark shape, DNA scanner in one hand. “We’re finding bits and pieces and not much else. Someone really went to town on him. Definitely one of yours, though.”

Sasuke studies the body and its surroundings, picking up blood splatters that glitter gaudily in the spinning police lights before dropping back into darkness. Lots of blood—enough to assume that the victim was killed here, rather than dumped. That’s always a nice head start on a case. “ID?” he asks, narrowing his eyes as he tries to sort things out. The lump is the body, but there are several smaller shapes around it that he can't quite make sense of.

“Can't get a lock on the guy. If he’s in the system, he’s had a few augmentations since his last database entry. Feel free to check it out, everything’s been recorded.” Kotetsu shrugs, then turns when one of his machines beeps and slides over to see the readout.

Sakura makes a thoughtful noise, tucking her face down a little further in her scarf as the wind gusts. “Must have been recent changes, then,” she offers. “Mandatory physicals are what, every four months?”

In a perfect world, they would be, but Sasuke's childhood wasn’t entirely what it should have been for the youngest son of the Uchiha family. He’s seen just how many people manage to fall through the cracks. Or slip through them, as the case may be. “Only if he had a steady job,” he counters with a faint huff. “Or if his job actually bothered to pull his med records. Or—”

“Yes, yes, I remember the academy lectures just as well as you do, Sasuke,” Sakura interrupts, wrinkling her nose slightly. “Still, even if he’s got augments, he’ll be in the system somewhere. Unless he has the money to make them full splicings, and I can only think of, what, ten people in the whole city who are rich enough for that. And if one of them were missing, we’d already know.”

Sasuke concedes this point with a tip of his head, casts a quick look back at the frowning Kotetsu, and then jerks his head towards the alley. “Come on. Work.”

Sakura trails after him with a beleaguered sigh. “I’ll have you know I don’t actually _have_ to put up with you, you uncommunicative jerk. I could have been a _doctor_ ,” she complains. “I could have spent my life in the lap of luxury, redesigning eyebrows and giving wealthy morons new bodies every time the fashion changed.”

Izumo is close enough to catch the tail end of her litany—one Sasuke has heard many, _many_ times over the past three years they’ve been partners—and grins, regardless of blood splattered thick and viscous over his surroundings. “And missed _this_?” he asks cheerfully, a flick of his free hand encompassing the grimy alley, one wall piled with overflowing trash bins and the other ankle-deep with muck that looks to be equal parts gutter run-off, machine waste, more discarded trash, and several other things Sasuke doesn’t want to identify too closely. Through it and around it are the scattered shapes Sasuke had been looking at earlier, now unfortunately clear—body parts, and no small number of them.

“If this is a party, maybe I need to redefine my idea of a good time,” Sakura mutters, grimacing as she picks her way over to the main piece of the body. Sasuke follows her, wary of his feet, because what's left there is pretty much a featureless trunk, and everything else is laid out around them like a macabre sort of puzzle. “Got anything, Kamizuki?”

“Soon,” Izumo promises, tilting the DNA scanner to show them the rapidly decreasing list as it shuffles through possibilities. “His augments were pretty standard, simple to rule out—higher muscle density, heavier bones, armor-like skin over his hands.”

“A street tough, maybe? Those are the ones mid-level enforcers usually go for,” Sasuke suggests absently, crouching to examine a glitter that catches his eye. Noticing, Sakura tosses him a pair of tweezers, and he nods his thanks as he lifts the thing free of the muck. A narrow ring, or maybe a wide earring—it’s been sheered neatly in half, so it’s a little hard to tell. He holds it up for Sakura's inspection. “Can you think of anything that can do that?”

She doesn’t look happy as she crouches next to him, snapping a pair of gloves on. They shimmer slightly, burning away all bacteria and foreign materials, and she starts sifting gently through the waste around them. “You mean besides whatever it was that killed four other people in Downcity in the last two months? Not really.”

It’s the same MO as their current case, Sasuke knows, but this seems…different. He rocks back on his heels, studying the scene, and frowns. “Why so violent?” he asks.

“I thought murder was one of those inherently violent things?” Izumo ventures, sounding vaguely amused as he fiddles with an array of buttons.

Sasuke leaves it up to Sakura, as ever, to translate, and she does so with a sigh and a brief, halfhearted glare. “What the verbal wonder means,” she says dryly, “is why so much _more_ violent? The last four were killed, but they each had a single wound to an artery—almost neat. This is…”

Not neat. Sasuke rises slowly, and he’s been a cop since he was eighteen, and spent a good portion of his life before that in Undercity, which would probably make Hell seem cultured and welcoming in comparison. But this, this is so utterly violent and merciless, even for a serial killer, that it makes his stomach turn. It’s possible it’s just escalation, but Sasuke doubts it; too much, too sudden, especially when the other murders were so straightforward they were almost clinical.

Sakura is moving away, heading for the walls at the mouth of the alley. Sasuke replaces the ring and then mirrors her, heading for the other end where it butts up against a thick concrete wall. He studies the stone, eyes only just picking out faint score-marks starting about halfway up, a good fifteen in the air without any handholds or convenient ledges nearby.

“Noise barrier,” Sakura calls, voice pitched just loud enough to carry between them without reaching the street. “There are scorch marks here—it must have been a powerful one. Either police-grade or illegally modified. No wonder nobody hears anything when these murders are happening.”

“Augmented,” Sasuke adds, gesturing upwards. Not that being augmented is anywhere near as rare as it was fifty years ago, but it cuts down their pool of suspects regardless. “No regular human could jump that high.”

Izumo makes a noise that draws their attention back to him as he rocks back on his heels. “Or your perp’s not human at all,” he says grimly. “You're looking at the earthly remains of Waraji, no known name beyond the alias. His file’s been flagged for smuggling, murder, extortion, arms dealing, and, last but certainly not least, overhauling and reprograming replicants to sell on the black market. Works for Gato.”

Sasuke huffs, tucking his hands back into his pockets. “Makes a nice set,” he offers, dry as dust. “To go with the man wanted for stealing replicants, the woman wanted for hacking and cracking them, and the two people selling free and papered replicants as to-be-owned models. All of whom just so happened to also work for Gato, who is forever denying accusations that he’s the biggest black market replicant dealer in Konoha.”

“So we’ve either got a very pissed-off android or a replicant rights enthusiast on our hands,” Sakura mutters, rubbing her temple with a grimace. “Awesome. I honestly couldn’t say which is worse.”

Sasuke rolls his eyes. “The crusader,” he says flatly, sidestepping a particularly deep pool of muck and going to hover near Sakura, who has moved to studying the body. Izumo lets her easily enough, knowing that her training rivals or even outstrips his in the area of medical knowledge.

“Definitely the same device as killed the last four,” she murmurs, carefully tilting the trunk to get a look at the slashes. Sasuke doesn’t quite look away, but it’s a near thing. For the most part he’s absolutely fine with corpses and the various things that come along with being a Major Crimes detective. But this one, so carefully dismembered and scattered, is almost too much for his equilibrium.

“Watch the eyeball on your left,” Izumo warns placidly, and Sasuke rapidly decides that it’s time to relocate.

“Checking with patrol,” he informs his partner, and then beats a careful retreat back into the mildly fresher air of the Downcity street.

Of course, because the universe hates him, it’s his absolute least favorite pair of Vice cops holding up the wall at the edge of the crime scene. Kankuro gives him a vicious grin, twirling his electro-mag rod through his fingers as Sasuke approaches.

“What's the matter, Uchiha?” he taunts. “Looking a little green there, aren’t you? Ouch!”

Temari casually withdraws her elbow from her brother’s gut and offers Sasuke a far more polite smile. “Uchiha. I thought this was one of yours. Same circumstances as the last—street was pretty much empty, no one heard anything, no one saw anything. Kankuro and I were on our way to 57th and East 9th when we noticed the blood and called it in. We took statements from the people in the surrounding businesses, but everyone’s saying a whole lot of nothing.”

That is equal parts unhelpful and unsurprising. Downcity is infamous for its lack of witnesses, even when crimes happen in broad daylight in the middle of the street. People here are only slightly more accommodating than those in Undercity, which means “not at all” rather than “will knife you for asking”.

Some days, Sasuke really, truly wonders why he took a dead-end job on the police force rather than the cushy corporate office job his father offered him.

(Besides the fact that this job allows him to tackle fleeing suspects. That’s just about the only perk he can think of right now.)

A hand on his elbow is enough to pull him out of the daze caused by reexamining his life choices. Sasuke glances around to find Sakura at his shoulder, trading perfunctory I've-seen-you-naked-but-we’re-exes-so-let’s-pretend-I-haven’t smiles with Temari. “Anything?” he asks.

Turning away from the other woman, Sakura pulls her scarf up a little higher and shakes her head. “Not at the moment,” she says, a thread of irritation in her tone. Sasuke takes a prudent step back. “We’ll know more once Hagane and Kamizuki get done analyzing everything.”

Also unsurprising. This entire case seems to be a series of baffling dead-ends and improbable circumstances, and Sasuke is getting tired of it. He grunts his acknowledgement, tips his head to the Vice cops in farewell, and turns away, heading back to the hovercar. Sakura falls into step beside him, expression analytical. Because they’ve been partners since they ended up in Major Crimes, Sasuke knows not to push. If Sakura figures something out, she’ll share.

Working with her has been good for his patience, if nothing else.

It’s only when they're halfway back to the precinct that she finally stirs from her spot leaning against the window, straightening a little and raking her fingers through her hair. Sasuke glances at her before turning his eyes back to the road, but it’s enough that she’ll know he’s listening.

“Replicants aren’t usually this…vicious,” she says after a moment.

Sasuke nod his agreement, spotting one of the slightly-less-dubious food carts and pulling over. The only thing waiting for them back at the station is more paperwork and the headache that is this case. He’s always happy to put off paperwork, and they can wrestle with the case just as well out here, so they might as well avoid the station’s vending machine food and eat an early dinner now. “Your turn to pay,” he reminds his partner as they both slide out onto the streets. They're on the edge of Downcity, right before the incline that will bring them to Midcity, and it’s already noticeably warmer. Sasuke unzips his heavy jacket with relief.

Sakura makes a face at him, but obligingly digs out her wallet as they approach. “I can't tell whether this job or your eating habits are going to kill us first,” she grumbles.

Maybe it’s petty, but Sasuke takes pleasure in ordering the greasiest maybe-a-burger on the menu, just because.

Still, once they're safely back in the car, Sasuke turns most of his attention away from his lunch to prompt, “Vicious?”

Picking dubiously at her sauerkraut-smothered hot dog, Sakura nods. “Right,” she says. “Even the other four murders were bad, if in a different way. Those weren’t crimes of passion. Somebody stalked those people, cornered them, set up sound barriers, and then murdered them. It doesn’t matter that it was just one clean cut. It was still premeditated and just…cold.”

Sasuke considers the crime scene they just left, scattered body parts and blood soaking into the muck, and puts his burger down. “So what changed?” he asks, frowning out at the street. “Waraji isn’t any worse than Zori, or Tayuya, or Hidan and Kakuzu. If this had happened to the last two, I could understand it—it makes sense for a replicant to get angry at one of their own doing this kind of thing, and Kakuzu didn’t exactly make a lot of friends. But for a simple street thug who got ahead of himself? It doesn’t fit.”

Sakura sighs, mouth tightening in frustration. “You're right, it doesn’t. A copycat, maybe? Serial killer cases tend to bring out the psychos.”

“This hasn’t been publicized,” Sasuke points out. “It’s criminals being killed. The news isn’t interested enough to drag it out into the spotlight.”

His partner chews, swallows, and then shakes her head. “Waraji didn’t even fight back,” she huffs. “No defensive wounds, so that wasn’t the reason for butchering him. But I don’t _get it_ , Sasuke. It’s like there were—” She stops suddenly, eyes widening.

Let it never be said that Sasuke needs everything spelled out for him. He catches the direction of her thoughts in an instant and finishes, “Like there were two different people.” And…that makes a lot more sense. One to subdue the victim, one to set up the barrier. The first is cold, methodical, but the second is more violent, unrestrained. For some reason, they switched jobs for Waraji’s murder, or maybe…

“Waraji wasn’t carrying a knife,” Sasuke realizes suddenly, glancing over at Sakura to see if she’s made the connection. Judging by the blank look she gives him, she hasn’t. Then again, she’s from a nice Midcity family, and never had to learn the lessons Sasuke now knows by heart. “Sakura,” he says patiently. “ _I_ would carry a knife in that part of Downcity. Even _Itachi_ would carry a knife down there. There was a holster on Waraji’s belt, so where was the knife?”

The pieces are falling together in Sakura's steel-trap mind. “No defensive wounds, because there wasn’t time for them,” she realizes, words gaining speed. “Waraji knew he was cornered, and he _did_ try to fight back. He got the first one with his knife—not a killing blow, but maybe serious—while the other was setting up the barrier. The first falls back, the second sees what’s happening and attacks. Without the first to hold them back, it’s a slaughter, and then the second takes the knife, takes the first, and gets out of there, but they're not nearly as careful as the planner. That would account for the marks on the wall, and the scorches from the barrier, which we’ve never seen before.”

“That accounts for just about everything,” Sasuke murmurs. “And if we’re right…”

“Blood,” Sakura agrees, darkly satisfied. “The techs might be able to pull the first’s blood out of the muck—any wound serious enough to take them out of the game _must_ have dripped somewhere. And even if it’s just replicant fluid, that should be enough to give us a clue.”

This would be why Sasuke picked his Major Crimes job over that cushy office position. There's nothing quite as satisfying as the clues lining up, the facts coming together. Now they just have to wait and hope that their hunches are correct.

With a soft sound of approval, Sasuke starts the hovercar and inputs their destination. As it merges back into the street, he settles back in his seat and decides that this small breakthrough is enough to justify finishing his dinner.

The fact that Sakura winces when grease drips down the wrapper has absolutely nothing to do with it.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As several people have asked about the premise, it’s more or less a mashup of Almost Human, Blade Runner (which is where I'm borrowing the term replicant from), and I, Robot. All credit to the authors/creators, I'm just borrowing bits of their respective sandboxes.

The front of the station is its usual congested rush of activity. Sasuke slips around a pair of beat cops wrestling a thug, a sobbing woman, and another pair of cops escorting a kid. One elevator is thankfully open, and he ducks in, just barely waiting for Sakura to follow before he hits the button to close the door. She gives him a sour look, but doesn’t protest, and Sasuke is well aware that she doesn’t want to get stuck with a bunch of moody officers or unhappy criminals either.

“Split up?” he suggests. “Hagane should have sent the scene data back by now. If it’s a slow day the labs might have it done.”

“The chief gave us priority, since we’re dealing with a serial killer,” Sakura reminds him, hitting the button for the fifteenth floor. “As long as they're not swamped, it should be done.” She casts him an arch look as the elevator starts to move, and adds, “I’ll go. For some reason the techs like me better.”

Sasuke rolls his eyes and mutters “Suck-up” under his breath, but doesn’t otherwise protest, since it’s unfortunately true. He gets along well enough with most of his coworkers, but anyone outside of that circle—well. Growing up an Uchiha means Sasuke has more than a bit of trouble making himself care. “Then I’ll check the hospital logs for serious knife wounds,” he says, resigned, and presses the key for the eighteenth. “It’s a long shot, but it might help us narrow things down, at least.”

Sakura looks just as skeptical as he feels. Honestly, the chances that their perps will use a legal hospital rather than just going to one of the many underground doctors in the city is slim to none. Still, they won't be doing their jobs right if they didn’t check, and Sasuke has too much pride to let that happen.

Without warning, the elevator suddenly lurches, sending Sasuke stumbling forward and right into Sakura. They both slam back against the wall, even as there's a heavy, concussive _thud_ that makes Sasuke's eardrums ache. The overhead light flickers wildly for a moment, then goes out completely, and Sasuke holds himself perfectly still where he’s sprawled over his partner, waiting to see if anything is going to start exploding.

At a count of thirty, when nothing else has happened, Sasuke slides off of Sakura and carefully pushes himself upright, one hand on the wall as he tests the elevator’s balance. Nothing lurches or cracks, so he presses his hand into Sakura's. She grips it tightly, letting him haul her to her feet, and in the same motion slaps a hand to her earpiece.

“Shikamaru!” she snaps in the particular tone Sasuke has come to know and dread. “Wake up and answer the damned comm. What the hell is going on?”

“I'm a little busy right now, Haruno.” The voice the station’s chief tech is tight and tense, a far cry from his usual lazy drawl. “Someone dropped an EMP into the power grid. Backup power is coming online, but we’ve got someone trying to get through the firewall.”

Without hesitation, Sasuke laces his fingers together in front of his chest and braces himself. Sakura doesn’t even have to look to know he’s done it; in the darkness he feels her foot land in the cup of his hands and lifts. There's a soft grunt, a moment of scrabbling, and then Sakura mutters, “Screw it,” and rams a fist forward. With a screech of metal, the maintenance hatch in the ceiling buckles like cheap tin, and one more blow sends it flying. Sakura grips the edges of the hole and hauls herself up, then stretches both hands back down. Sasuke grabs them, and she drags him up without even a grunt of effort.

Enhanced strength augments like Sakura's aren’t a common thing, or at all easy to control. Sasuke might resent it when she tries to take his head off with that strength, but he’ll admit that it’s damned impressive as well.

The soft glow of the emergency lights fills the elevator shaft, and Sasuke studies the plate on the inside of the doors half a level above them. “Any chance you can open the elevator doors for us?” he asks without much hope.

“What part of _busy_ don’t you understand?” Shikamaru asks waspishly. “Damn it, I hate this job.”

“So you’ve said,” Sakura mutters, dust-dry. “Several hundred times. Anything?” She jerks her head at Sasuke, and with a sigh he twists his hands into a stirrup again. Taking one quick step, Sakura jumps into his grip as Sasuke straightens abruptly, and she uses the momentum to catch the edge of the door. With a huff, she pulls herself up, then digs her fingers into the outer doors and easily pries them open.

Over the comm, Shikamaru sighs. “I hope you know the Chief is going to take any damages out of your paycheck, Haruno,” he informs her. There's a muttered curse, a low sound of borderline anger, and he adds, “They're in the system, and they're leeching data. Whoever it is, they're good.”

They’d have to be _really_ good to get past Shikamaru when he’s trying to keep them out, Sasuke thinks with a frown. He catches the hand Sakura leans down to offer him, kicking off the wall as she pulls him up, and they slip out into the hallway of the twelfth floor. “Can you back-trace them?” he asks. “For something like that, with the power down, they have to be in the building, right?”

“Nearest backup servers are on 14,” Sakura murmurs, sharing a glance with him, and they both turn and head for the stairs at a run.

“I'm trying.” Shikamaru sounds vastly annoyed, which doesn’t bode well for the hacker who likely interrupted his nap. “Whoever it is keeps cloning their presence and trying to distract me with ghosts, but…almost. Are you two trapped?”

“Mobile,” Sasuke reports, hitting the landing and flinging himself up the next flight of stairs with Sakura just a beat behind. “We’re on 12, headed up. Anything?”

Shikamaru makes a sound of triumph. “Got it. I'm isolating the source now, and—there you are, you bastard. On 15, west side, the observation platform. They must have pulled up some of the floor panels to get at the wiring, and dropped the EMP right on top of the power relay. The hacker’s somewhere close by, linked into the network.”

Sakura puts on a burst of speed and reaches the stairwell door first, shouldering it open and swinging out with her fists raised. On her heels, Sasuke draws his stun baton and follows, but the hall is almost eerily empty. There's not so much as a sound, and Sasuke blinks, opening eyes that he knows have turned to scarlet and black pinwheels. His family’s traditional augment, done on all children over twelve, was never quite meant for police work, but Sasuke has adapted. As it is, practice lets him pick out stray particles in the air, dissipating wisps of vapor that have no business being there.

With a frustrated sound, he reports, “Someone gassed this floor. A sleeping agent, I’d guess. It’s already dispersing.”

“I’m turning the fans on anyway. Be careful.” Even as Shikamaru speaks, a faint hum starts up, and Sasuke checks the concentration of gas further down the hall. It looks clear, so he tips his head in the direction. Sakura nods, tugging her fingerless armored gloves out of the pocket of her jacket and pulling them on as the two of them head down the corridor at a run. There's a cold wind that shouldn’t manage to penetrate the building, and ahead of them Sasuke can see the wide glass doors to the observation area are stalled halfway closed. Through them, he can just make out a lone figure kneeling by the wall.

“Police!” Sakura shouts as they burst out into the open air. “Hands up and step away from the wall!”

It’s a man, Sasuke realizes, young and lean, dressed in a tightfitting black bodysuit, his hair a flyaway mess of golden spikes. He’s wearing a headset, and there's a wide, opaque orange visor covering his eyes, which snaps up towards Sasuke and Sakura for half a second. Between his hands, a holoscreen flickers with a rapid rush of stolen data, and he carefully shifts it aside, then rises.

“Hey, hey,” he says, like he’s trying to placate them. “No need for violence. I'm just a guy trying to make a living.”

“That living’s about to land you in cell for the rest of your natural life,” Sasuke growls, flipping the baton around in his hand. “Cut the link. This is your last warning.”

The blond head tips, considering. Then the man grins, sharp-edged and wild, and says, “Nah. I think I’d like to keep this stuff. Pretty interesting reading, believe it.” The screen flickers out of existence, but Sasuke can see the upload link flicker at the edge of the thief’s visor. With a low growl, he throws himself forward, baton swinging like a sword.

In a blur of motion too fast to be human, the blond leaps back and lands on his hands, flips over, ducks to the left, and comes up in just the right place to slam a foot into Sasuke's side and send him crashing into the wall. Sasuke only barely manages to keep from breaking his nose, slapping his palms against the concrete and using the momentum to lunge back into the fight, directly at the man. At the _replicant_ , because there's no way a human, even augmented, could move that fast. He aims for the blond’s skull, not intending to hit, just distract, because Sakura is lunging from the other side, and—

A blur of violet and gold spins between Sakura and the thief, and Sakura yelps as she goes flying back, limned by pale purple light. She skids across the balcony and rolls right back to her feet, fists clenched, and glares at the woman in the purple bodysuit. The stranger is wearing a visor as well, light blue instead of orange, and her long blonde hair is pulled up in a high tail. There's more light around her, pale and shimmering, and Sasuke can recognize the beginnings of another telekinetic attack.

A psion, and clearly a powerful one at that. Like their day couldn’t get any more disastrous.

“Getting started without me, Naruto?” she asks with a laugh, cracking her knuckles. “You’re such an attention hog.”

The man—Naruto, and Sasuke makes careful note of the name—grins, showing teeth. “You know me, Ino, the life of the party. You’ve got her?”

Ino gives Sakura a very obvious once-over. “My pleasure,” she says wickedly. “Hey, lady cop, you open to dinner?”

Green eyes snapping with fury, Sakura snarls and throws herself forward. “I don’t date _criminals_! Give up now and I won't pound your face into the roof!”

“Ah, too bad. You're really cute.” Despite the lament, the blonde presses two fingers to her temple, body tensing, and purple light flares like a bomb going off as it erupts into a tall, wide shield. Without the time to stop, Sakura crashes directly into it, and another blast of power carries her back, slamming her into the far side of the hallway.

“Sakura!” Sasuke shouts, but before he can even take a step the blonde woman is bounding after her, and Sakura is staggering to her feet with her fists raised and determination on her face. She’s fine, and the intruder is about to get a whole lot more than she bargained for. From experience, Sasuke knows that Sakura is more than a match for anyone, even a psion.

“Just you and me then, huh?” the first thief asks cheekily as Sasuke spins around to face him. Despite the grin the blond is still wearing, there's a ready tension to his form, and he’s half-crouched, wary and watchful. “I can work with that. I mean, since Ino's got dibs on your friend and all. But that’s okay, you're more my type.”

“Stop flirting,” Sasuke orders shortly, catching hold of his baton again. “You're terrible at it.”

The blond bristles, clearly offended. “And you're a jerk! Didn’t anyone ever teach you to be polite, bastard?”

“You're _stealing from us_ ,” Sasuke reminds him incredulously, “and I'm going to _arrest you_ for it. I don’t need to be polite for that, dead last!”

“Who the hell are you calling dead last? I just kicked you into a wall!”

“You caught me by surprise! I thought you were human, not a _replicant_!”

“ _Oh my god,_ Sasuke, FOCUS!” Sakura shrieks at decibels he hasn’t heard since the academy, trying to pin the blonde woman underneath her. From the grin on the psion’s face, she’s not having too much luck; super strength doesn’t mean a lot when you can't get a firm grip.

All right. Perhaps getting dragged into an argument with a criminal isn’t Sasuke's best moment. He winces, ducking forward and aiming his baton in a hard strike across the replicant’s knees, but the android flips right up and over it, whirling to the side in an attempt to take Sasuke by surprise again. Too smart to get caught by the same trick twice, Sasuke doesn’t bother turning, just slashes out, and is gratified to hear the sharp crack as metal connects with synthetic flesh. The blond yelps, leaping back, and Sasuke spins to follow, augmented eyes able to track the movements even when his reflexes lag behind.

There's a sudden, sharp beep, a whir, and the red light flickering on the corner of the replicant’s visor turns into a steady green glow.

Instantly, the blond pulls his next attack, vaulting straight over Sasuke's head and landing in a crouch. “Got it, let’s go!” he shouts, and the holoscreen flares under his fingers again. He punches in a command, ducks the grab Sasuke makes for him, and hisses, “Ino!”

As limber as a cat, the psion flips her position with Sakura, wriggles off of her, and twists into a backwards handspring that carries her across the roof and right to her partner’s side. The moment she lands, purple power gathers again, and she lashes out with one hand, a violet blast following the motion. Sasuke just barely manages to dodge it in time, diving to the side as Sakura tucks into a tight ball. In the same instant, every light around the balcony flares nova-bright, and Sasuke slams his eyes shut with a curse as lances of agony stab directly into his brain.

With a series of crackling pops, the bulbs burst, and the city’s evening gloom sweeps over them like a wave. There's no sound, and Sasuke doesn’t even bother looking for the two thieves; they're well and truly gone by now, likely over the side of the building if their suits are equipped with rappelling gear. He gives it another moment, then cautiously opens his eyes, feeling a rush of relief when everything still looks clear. Optical augments are notoriously delicate, and given the current state of his familial relationships, there wouldn’t be many ways to undo the damage.

“Okay?” he asks Sakura, who’s on her knees by the door, as he pulls himself to his feet.

There's a long moment of silence, tense enough that Sasuke jerks around, looking for blood. But Sakura doesn’t look hurt; she’s staring at the ground in front of her with wide eyes, and as he watches, she reaches out to lightly touch the metal in front of her.

“Since when,” she asks in a slightly shaky voice, “could a psionic blast do _that_?”

Sasuke blinks and follows her gaze. Right in the path of the blonde woman’s power is a deep, knife-clean slice in the steel paneling. It’s impossibly precise, not ragged in the least, and Sasuke has only ever seen one thing cut so cleanly and not leave some sort of sign. The last time he saw it was just an hour ago, in the middle of their bloody crime scene.

“Well,” he says when he finally gets his voice back. “That’s…interesting.”

Sakura snorts, but she takes the hand he offers and lets him pull her to her feet. “I think it’s a hell of a lot more than just _interesting_ ,” she huffs. “They were stealing files. Want to go hit Shikamaru up and see just what it was they stole?”

What Sasuke _really_ wants is a very large cup of coffee and a shower, or maybe six solid hours to commune with his mattress. He’s already well aware that he’s not going to get it, but he still wants it.

“Remind me why I picked this job again?” he asks with a grimace, raking a hand through his dirty, messy hair.

“Because you're a masochist, Sasuke,” Sakura answers, though she doesn’t look any more cheerful about the prospect of another sleepless night than he does. Sighing, she casts one last, wary glance at the cut metal and then manages a wry smile. “And apparently so am I. Come on.”

Reluctantly, Sasuke falls into step with her as they head back up the hall, and tries his comm, though the fact that Shikamaru isn’t growling curses at them for losing the hacker is a good sign that something is wrong. All he gets when he hits the button is a crackle of static and a stinging spark, and he jerks his hand away with a half-swallowed yelp.

The glance Sakura fixes him with as they head back down the stairs is amused and judgmental in equal measure. “Sasuke, we were standing above a live EMP. Their gear must have been reinforced, but ours wasn’t.”

That can't be right. Sasuke blinks, coming to a halt, and frowns as his partner turns to face him expectantly. “That’s not possible,” he says in confusion. “The male—he was a replicant. Maybe their gear was reinforced, but you can't put the same safeguards on an entire android.”

“That EMP was still on,” Sakura insists. “There's no other reason for our comms being offline, and your baton didn’t stun him. My watch is dead. Sasuke, it was _working_. Are you _sure_ he was a replicant?”

Sasuke holds her gaze with all the certainty he can muster. “I have never seen _anyone_ move that fast, no matter how many augments they had. Even _my_ eyes had a hard time keeping up.”

At that, Sakura starts frowning too. “That’s…not good,” she mutters, cracking her knuckles the way she does when she’s nervous. “So either someone made a whole new kind of replicant or someone made a whole new kind of augment. I don’t like either of those options.”

“We’re also avoiding the fact that we just faced a psion with the ability to cut straight through reinforced _metal_ ,” Sasuke reminds her, because he’s not about to let either of them forget that. “Level 1s can, what, lift a human? To be able to put that much force behind a blow—that’s not telekinesis anymore, that’s _psychokinesis_ , and there's never been a proven case of it so far.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Obito's ability is 100% modeled after Extremis from the Iron Man comics (not the movie, because wtf even was that, okay), and more backstory on it (and everything else) will come into play later. Pinky swear. It's all been planned out.

Below them, a door creaks open, and rapid steps ascend the stairs. Sasuke looks down in time to see a spiky ponytail round the landing, and a moment later Shikamaru comes to a stop at the edge of the steps, glaring up at them. There's a stunner in his shoulder holster, even though Sasuke knows he never wears it when he can avoid it, and the faintest edge of well-buried concern in his eyes.

“Really?” he asks, annoyed. “You couldn’t spare five seconds to let me know you were alive instead of making me run all the way here? You're so troublesome.”

“The EMP killed our comms,” Sakura explains, starting down with a reassuring smile. “We were just coming to find you.”

Shikamaru deflates with an exasperated sigh, tugging hard on his ponytail. “The hacker got away, then?”

“Hackers,” Sasuke corrects, annoyance flickering at the memory of the blond’s smile. “A female psion and a male replicant, both blond. Naruto and Ino, they called each other.”

“Well, that’s a start,” Shikamaru murmurs pensively. “A replicant? On top of a live EMP generator? You're sure?”

Sasuke just narrows his eyes at the other man, because he’d hardly say it if he wasn’t. Shikamaru rolls his own eyes and gives him an unimpressed look in return. “All right. Thanks. I don’t think anyone else could have gotten up there so fast, and I appreciate it. Medical crews are on their way up if either of you need attention.”

“We were just coming to see if you’d figured out what they were looking for,” Sakura says as they follow the tech back out onto the fourteenth floor. “There might be a connection to our current case, actually.”

Shikamaru favors her with a faintly doubtful look, but nods. The door of his main office is still standing open, and he waves them in. The small space is cluttered in a meticulous sort of way, and Sasuke eyes the stacks of files and unnamable devices warily as he picks his way around them.

Throwing himself into the only chair, Shikamaru spins around and swipes a hand through the air to bring his holoscreen up. “This wasn’t just a smash and grab,” he says grimly. “Whoever those two were, they knew _exactly_ how to get around our defenses, and what they were looking for. Take the station off the main grid and all the systems are inaccessible from outside, but from the inside we’re more vulnerable. Then there's only one main firewall, and the hacker was good enough to get around it while I was chasing clones. They took all the files on a robbery at Uchiha Incorporated that happened three months ago.”

Sasuke tenses faintly at the name of his family’s business. “Which branch?” he demands tersely.

A warm hand catches his wrist, squeezes gently, and then lets go. Sakura doesn’t look at him as she leans forward to study the screen over Shikamaru's shoulder, but she’s never needed to in order to read him. “Looks like…Lab 47, Quadrant 5, Midcity. Do you know it?”

Sasuke was never the heir, only the spare. Itachi was the one who learned all the different pieces of the business in the city, and while it’s an old ache, Sasuke can push it down until it’s barely a sting of indignation in his chest. “Not really. I was there once, though, and I think they deal in historical artifacts.”

“That fits with what was stolen.” With a flick of his fingers, Shikamaru pulls up diagrams and slightly blurry photos of nine pods, human-sized and very obviously old. They look almost like life-support chambers, but the designs are different, more streamlined. “According to the report that UI filed, these things were recovered from a dig in Undercity almost fifty years ago, though there wasn’t much more detail than that. But this is all the thieves took, both at the labs and here and now; nothing else was even touched.”

Sakura hums thoughtfully. “Thanks, Shika. Can you send us those files? If you need the Chief’s okay—”

Even as he enters the command, Shikamaru grimaces. “Chief Tsunade is already going to be breathing down my neck about the security breach. I’d rather not make her think about me any more than is absolutely necessary. If you say you need the files, take them. I've got work to do.” With a muttered “Troublesome,” he waves them both away, and then bends over his keyboard, the rest of the world immediately forgotten.

Trading amused glances with his partner, Sasuke leads the way out of the office, hits a button on his data-band, and pulls up his own holoscreen. The files are waiting in his inbox, and with a sigh he closes the window and asks, “Time to work?”

“Time to work,” Sakura agrees, just as reluctantly. She rubs her eyes for a moment, then suggests, “Want to spread out in the cafeteria? I could use a _lot_ of coffee right now.”

It’s definitely going to be a ten-cup kind of evening. Sasuke nods, trying not to think of Itachi's big, comfy, ergonomically-designed office chair and nine-to-five workday. He made his choice when he was eighteen, and though he may be a lot of things, able to give up before he’s seen something through isn’t one of them. This is his job, there are murderers on the loose, and he’s not going to stop until they're where they belong. That’s enough to keep him going.

 

 

Obito wakes to rain drumming on the wide bedroom windows and twelve news feeds in his head blaring information on the attack at the precinct.

With a low groan, he presses a hand to his skull, shutting down the channels with a thought and leaving a ringing silence in their wake. There's a lingering ache in his muscles, a sharp edge of pain waiting if he moves too fast, but Obito is used to the way he always hurts on rainy days and dismisses that as well. Slowly, carefully, he pushes himself up, the sheet slipping down to pool in his lap, and takes a breath, feeling the faint itch of his uplink coming online. There are several messages waiting, but nothing that can't sit for a few hours at least.

A pass of Obito's hand brings the lights up, brightening just enough to banish the shadows back to the edges of the room. The other side of the bed is empty, but the lingering heat signature his bionic eye picks up means that it hasn’t been that way for long, and Obito feels content enough to dismiss the idea of getting up right now. He lets himself fall back against the pillows, breath escaping in a long sigh, and rubs his palms over his face. Everything feels…lazy. It’s not something he allows himself to indulge in often, but right now he can't resist. The rest of the world can wait.

As if in answer to that thought, the door slides open with a hiss, and Kakashi slips through, carrying a cup of coffee. When his eyes land on Obito, he smiles, and Obito is physically unable to resist the urge to smile back. His heart doesn’t quite flip over in his chest the way it always did in the beginning, but there's a certain twist in his stomach that feels like the first second of freefall, the entire world stretching out beneath him.

“Morning,” he says roughly, already reaching out his hand.

“Good morning,” Kakashi returns, passing over the coffee and then tugging off his bathrobe. Obito doesn’t bother looking away, just hums appreciatively as the first mouthful of hot liquid slides down his throat. Kakashi arches a brow at him, silently asking whether the sound was for the caffeine or the show, and Obito shoots him a sly half-smile, content to leave him wondering.

With a quiet chuckle—because he’s used to this game too—Kakashi shakes his head, then slides under the sheet and settles against the headboard, stealing his coffee back. Since there's no reason not to, Obito follows, dropping his head onto Kakashi's shoulder and curling into his side. Deftly, Kakashi shifts his coffee out of danger and wraps an arm around Obito in return, smoothing his fingers down his spine just to the left of the join where synthetic flesh meets real.

“Something happened?” he asks, low and easy.

Obito hums, closing his eyes. There's an alert trying to get his attention, but he pushes it away, setting the thousands of data streams aside for now. Madara owes him a lot more than one lazy evening. “Someone just attacked the Midcity police station in Quadrant 1. I guess this is when things start moving.”

There's a moment of silence, and Obito can practically see Kakashi's concern rising. He makes a disgruntled sound, smacking the man lightly on the chest, and adds in annoyance, “Stop it. We knew this was coming.”

Kakashi makes a quiet sound of reluctant agreement. “Isn’t it a little soon?” he asks. “We only just settled things.”

It is, Obito acknowledges, but he just sighs and tips his head to kiss Kakashi's bare shoulder. “Maybe, but there's nothing we can do right now but react. Everyone’s a little more motivated than we expected, but it’s not the end of the world.” He opens his normal eye, giving Kakashi a pointed look. “We’re naked in bed, and there's nothing for us to do for at _least_ six hours. Do you really want to talk about this now?”

With a soft snort, Kakashi reaches out to set aside his coffee, then rolls back, tugging Obito fully on top of him as his shoulders hit the mattress. “Well, when you put it like that…”

Obito catches his balance, both hands braced on his partner’s chest, and gets his knees under him, pushing up to kneel astride Kakashi’s hips. He grins, leaning forward to kiss Kakashi thoroughly, and murmurs against his lips, “I knew you’d see it my way.”

Chuckling, Kakashi curls his hands around Obito's sides, smoothing callused fingers over his skin. Obito can feel him hardening, and his own breath catches in his throat, the slow slide of _I want_ that’s been with him since he woke up deepening, twisting into something sharper, hotter. Kakashi hums appreciatively, intentional mockery of Obito's earlier noise, and thrusts up lightly. His cock slides against Obito's, and Obito can't help the breathless sound that it punches out of him. Arousal slams through him, nerves lighting, and _lazy_ becomes the very last thing on his mind.

“Lube,” he orders, waving a hand imperiously, and Kakashi's eyes go heavy-lidded and intent.

“Right to the main event?” he asks even as he scrabbles under the pillows for the tube they dropped earlier. He probably intends to sound dry and amused, but the words are too breathless to manage it.

“Well,” Obito says, mock-judiciously, and grinds his hips back, feeling Kakashi's hard cock drag along his own, just a touch too dry for complete comfort, though it still sets sparks dancing through his stomach. “I could put a cock ring on you and blow you for an hour without letting you come, if you want to draw this out. My mouth on you, no way to finish even though you're fucking my throat, pure _torture_ —” He drops his voice to the low, guttural rumble Kakashi's so fond of, and has to bite back a moan when Kakashi's breath catches and he thrusts up blindly, hands clamping down on Obito's hips.

It’s good, but not enough. After spending the last month in the bowels of Undercity, never able to drop their guards enough for anything more than a few stolen kisses, Obito is all for skipping right to the interesting part. Foreplay will have to wait for next time.

“You're trying to kill me,” Kakashi complains, prying one hand off Obito to snatch up the lube again. He squeezes a generous blob out over Obito's fingers, then tosses it aside and drags Obito down into a kiss that’s all teeth. Obito moans at the flicker of fire over his nerve endings, even as he presses his fingers into himself. It makes him still, focusing on the still-strange stretch, the fullness that isn’t quite enough, and he whines as he glances a touch over his prostate.

“Fuck,” Kakashi mutters, watching him with hot eyes. His fingers curl, pressing indents into Obito's skin, and then one slides up to tug at a nipple. Obito moans, not even trying to restrain himself, and ducks his head to mouth at the smooth, pale skin of Kakashi's throat. The man is gorgeous, but never more so than this: laid out in their shared bed, flushed with want, mismatched eyes gone black with desire as he tries in vain to catch his breath. He wants _Obito_ , despite everything, despite the way Obito hardly counts as human anymore.

“Beautiful,” Kakashi breathes, as though he can hear what Obito is thinking. “Look at you.”

Obito laughs as best he can, because really? He should be the one saying that. Strangling a gasp, he pulls his fingers free, then grips Kakashi's cock and shifts back. This stretch is sharper, just on the edge of too much, but Obito sinks down anyway, breathless with the pleasure of it as the fullness hits every sensitive nerve just right. He bottoms out with a groan, holding himself still, and closes his eyes as he tips his head back, focusing on the feel of Kakashi inside of him. He’d thought, after the first six months, that he would get used to it, that every time they ended up in bed would let the desire even out a little more. But now all that’s changed is the fact that the want is banked coals, ready to blaze at the first hint of wind, rather than an open flame. Nothing else is different, and Obito would be terrified if he weren’t so stupidly in love.

He shifts, grinding down in a slow circle, and shudders at the pleasure of it. Bracing his hands on Kakashi's chest, he rocks up, then back down, and can barely breathe through the white-hot desire that sparks up his spine. The lights in the room flicker when Kakashi thrusts up, whiting out the same way Obito's vision does, and he tries breathlessly to drag himself back under control. Burning out all the electronics in the apartment when he comes makes Kakashi _unbearably_ smug.

The rhythm they settle into is slow but deep, and never quite leaves Obito with enough time to catch his breath, but he doesn’t care. Kakashi is murmuring praises and complements, one hand sliding over Obito's left side, the other curling around his cock in a grip that’s so loose it’s maddening. Obito makes a sound of frustration and ducks down to kiss him again, dazed and messy and absolutely perfect. Kakashi returns it with just as much intensity, chest stuttering in a hitching gasp, and his fingers tighten sharply. The sudden grip on his cock is too much, too soon; the tight-hot coil in Obito's gut snaps in a cascade of too-much-just-enough, and he comes with a wordless cry, clamping down hard.

Under him, Kakashi makes a noise like he’s been punched in the gut, and his hips jerk up hard, almost knocking Obito off balance. With a low groan, he spends himself, head tipped back and eyes closed, Obito's name framed silently on his lips.

Dizzy and breathless, nerves still humming, Obito carefully lifts off of Kakashi and drops bonelessly to the side, right into the other man’s firm grip. Kakashi pulls him against his chest, burying his face in Obito's hair, and holds tight. Obito lets him, even though he’s usually not one for cuddling immediately after sex; there aren’t going to be many chances for this in the near future, and he’s more than happy to take what he can get.

“Love you,” he whispers, laying another kiss on Kakashi's pale skin, and the endorphins keep the embarrassment at his own sappiness at bay.

Kakashi makes a sound that’s somewhere between amusement and—and _something else_ , which Obito has never quite been able to parse. “I know,” he says, eyes crinkling faintly—his tell of a smile, even when he’s trying to hide it.

With a grunt of disgust, Obito slaps his chest. “Asshole,” he accuses, and Kakashi chuckles, leaning in for another kiss. Obito lets it linger for an endlessly long moment, deciding he’s more than happy to see if they can fill their remaining time just like this—

Another alert, then another, with a third hard on its heels. They slam their way through the firewalls in Obito's mind, crashing into his consciousness with the weight of a brick to his skull, and he jerks back with a yelp, one hand flying up to his head automatically. Kakashi's hands clamp onto his sides, steadying him, and there's concern in the other man’s voice as he asks sharply, “Obito?”

“Nnn,” Obito manages, eyes tightly closed as he tries to keep the pain contained. Any more, any slip on his part, and his nose will start bleeding. That will just make Kakashi panic in that tightly contained way he does, and Obito would rather not be subjected to Mama Bear Hatake in their last free hours. “Ugh. I'm fine. Madara is just a controlling asswipe who hates being ignored.”

That at least gets him a huff of amusement, and a moment later lips feather over his brow. Obito sighs softly in thanks, even as he accepts the first message, a reported sighting of one of the Nine, all the way across town in Upcity. The second is an assessment of the police station attack, complete with lots of information Madara legally shouldn’t be able to access, and the third is a long and colorful rant on Obito's uselessness and laziness when there's so much work to be done.

Madara really is an asshole, and Obito would happily murder him if he was in grabbing range right now.

With a resigned groan, Obito pulls away from Kakashi, hastily wiping himself down with a corner of the sheet and then sliding out of bed and heading for the closet. “One of Madara's people spotted Shukaku in Quadrant 7, Upcity,” he tosses over his shoulder as he pulls the bodysuit on. “Are you coming?”

“As if I’d let you go alone,” Kakashi says mildly, tossing a handful of sticky tissues in the trash and reaching past him for his own suit. “Just Shukaku? They must have started splitting up.”

“They’ll last longer that way,” Obito answers critically. “And we need to give them as much of a head-start as we can. If we know where they are…”

“Then so does she,” Kakashi agrees. He drags his fingers lightly down Obito's spine before he steps away. “Full kit?”

“Might as well.” Obito turns to watch him open one of the hidden wall compartments and start strapping weapons into place. He doesn’t need more than what he’s already carrying; after all, his entire body is a weapon. Still, he can appreciate good weaponry—and how dangerous Kakashi looks while wearing it. Before the thought can distract him, though, Madara sends him another pointed burst of text, and he winces. “Argh. Okay, Madara has a lead on Kurama and the stray that he picked up as well, and he’s getting impatient. Separate?”

Kakashi glances sideways at him, not looking entirely happy with the idea, but he doesn’t protest. “All right. I can take Shukaku.”

“And I’ll go crawl around in some more Undercity sewers,” Obito says with a grimace. “Fantastic. I swear, if the fate of the entire city wasn’t at risk, I would tell Madara exactly what to do with all of this, and then shove his head back up his ass.”

“Don’t believe for a moment that I wouldn’t help.” Kakashi gives him a faint smile, and reaches up to activate his headset. It unfolds from around his ear, sliding into place, and the direct link to Obito shimmers to life in his mind. Obito tests it, prodding at it, and when it responds perfectly he sets it aside and leans in for a quick kiss.

“I know,” he murmurs, then steps back. “Keep in touch. I will hunt you down and beat you over the head if you start taking stupid risks again.”

Kakashi's eyes crinkle, and he favors Obito with a lazy salute. “As you wish.”

“You're not nearly as funny as you think you are,” Obito complains, but kisses Kakashi one more time, brief but hard, before he turns away. The balcony door shimmers out of existence and he crosses to the railing in a few swift steps, braces a hand on the metal, and vaults right over the edge.

The world drops away, air rushing past him, and Obito takes a breath, brings every last one of his uplinks online in a dizzying surge of power, and opens his eyes to a world filled with streaming data and a constant battering of calculations.

Just because he can, he waits until the last possible moment to fire his grapple, and when he does the jerk of it catching feels like wings opening after a dive. It makes him grin, breathless and wild, and over the clamor of the city at night he just thinks he can hear Kakashi laughing at him.


End file.
